


Paradiso

by Davechicken, ElDiablito_SF



Series: Paradiso [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Grace Kink, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for wedding bells for Cas and Crowley as the Paradiso 'Verse draws to a close.  Who will attend?  Who will officiate?  And what are they wearing to the wedding?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradiso

[](http://s83.photobucket.com/user/athosesk/media/paradiso3copy.jpg.html)

“Kevin? Kevin… open up… come on, little prophet, I brought you a present…”

Kevin was not an idiot. No matter what the demon on his front doorstep was saying he knew better than to open up and let the King of Hell in. He stared in horrified disbelief at what appeared to be Crowley and his mother on the intercom screen.

“Kevin… the Winchesters told me you were here. Look! I brought your mother back. She’s all in one piece. Not possessed or anything. You can throw holy water on her and do whatever you want to do to prove she’s fine…”

The person who looked like Kevin’s mother took some sideways steps away from Crowley, almost moving out of sight. Crowley made no attempt to stop her.

“...I can even wipe her memory of it all and she can just think the last year was particularly boring, if you like, save her the trauma…”

“Don’t listen to him, Kevin!”

“I’m trying to be nice, Mrs. Tran.” The demon on the small screen looked exasperated. “But if you want to remember, then that’s fine by me. Just know the offer always stands - gratis - no need to even bake me cookies, let alone donate your soul.”

Kevin grabbed his phone and dialled Dean. “Dean… yeah. Yeah he’s here. He says… it is? Are you sure? I mean he said… no I know they _lie_ Dean, but he… he what? With who?”

***

Kevin finished all the tests he could think of, shocked beyond measure that it did - in fact - seem to be his mother. Fit and well. Unpossessed. Not a demon. Not a ghost. 

“Mom?”

“I’ve missed you so much!”

The prophet of the Lord flung himself around his mother, hugging her for all he was worth.

“Great. Now… if you’d be so kind as to let me out of this trap I willingly stepped into?”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “You did not enter it willingly.”

“Well, fine. But I stood in the bloody thing, didn’t I? _And_ I brought you your mother back. _And_ I brought you some blueberry muffins. _And_ I didn’t mute your mother on the ride over, either.”

“You stole my mother. You… you’ve done horrible things! I don’t care what Dean says, you’re a demon and you--”

Crowley put up a hand, halting Kevin in mid-rant. “I know. Demon. King of Hell. I’m rather well read up on the relative documents, and I’ve written enough soul-contracts over the years to bore everyone to tears with tort law. But if the Winchesters are willing to vouch for me, then don’t I at least deserve a chance to convince you of the purity of my intentions?”

“You’re a demon, Crowley. Nothing about you is pure.”

If it hurt, it didn’t show. “Heaven will always need someone to caretake the damned, Kevin. If you think I’m bad, you should have seen the guy before me. Now we had a deal. Let me go.”

Reluctantly - and with a nod from his mother first - Kevin did.

“Great. I’m going to put your invitation in the post.”

“My… what?”

But the demon had already gone.

***

“DEAN!”

Cas materialized right in Dean’s lap, still in his three piece suit, looking relatively put together, except his hair which was sticking up either which way in exactly the same conformation Crowley had left it when he ran his fingers right through it during their departing kiss.

“Cas, what the hell!” Dean threw his hands up, as if they had just touched something scalding (it was actually Castiel’s hips, and Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to touch those).

“Dean! You’ll never believe what happened!” The angel was flushed and talking in quick gasps rather than complete sentences.

“I can try… once you get _off_ me?”

“Dean, LOOK!” Instead of moving, the angel leaned in and shoved his hand into his best friend’s face. “Crowley asked me to marry him. I said yes. Obviously. I mean, I love him so much, you know.”

“Help,” Dean squawked weakly, eyes towards Sam, who had closed his laptop and sat there looking rather smug.

“LOOK DEAN!” The ring was shoved in his face again in a rather militant fashion. “Isn’t it pretty? I mean… tasteful. Manly even. Er… Anyways.”

“I see it. I’m happy for you. Can you get off?”

“It was so unexpected,” Cas continued, finally sliding off Dean’s lap, and skipping over to Sam, shoving the ring in the taller hunter’s face. “Look, Sam! Can you believe this?” Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Cas wasn’t really listening. “There were candles. And this skybridge thing. We were in Bangkok. I think. That’s a funny name, isn’t it? Bangkok.”

“Dude,” Dean tried to interject.

“And a string quartet playing Tchaikovsky!” Cas exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “I love you so much.” He flew over to Dean and wrapped his arms around the baffled hunter. “You too, Dean. I love you so much. Almost as much as I love Crowley.”

“Jesus, Cas! Calm down. Sit. Talk normally. Stop…. stop _zapping_!” Dean yelled just as Cas zapped over to Sam again.

“And fireworks! You like fireworks, don’t you, Sam?” Sam opened his mouth to speak again only to be utterly disregarded. “I like them. Of course,” he continued coyly, “those fireworks were nothing compared to the fireworks once we got to the penthouse.” He poofed over to the couch where Dean sat with a vaguely concussed expression on his face. “He went down on one knee and everything!”

“I know, Cas! I know. He actually asked for my blessing before asking you to marry him,” Dean finally got a sentence out.

“He _did_?” Castiel’s eyes got wide and suspiciously wet. Dean scooted further away because it looked like he might get mauled and possibly cried upon. “That is so sweet. Of course, I would expect nothing less. You have no idea how much he loves me.” Cas plopped onto the couch next to Dean. Close. Too close. “Did you know, Dean, you can do this thing with your tongue...”

“TMI, CAS!” Dean leapt up as if bitten by a wasp.

“No, no, it’s not what you watch in the heterosexual porn all the time.”

“Cas, stop!”

The angel pouted.

“I’m happy for you both. Really, man. I’m frickin’ thrilled! And I’ll be your best man, and give you away, and throw you the biggest bachelor party, whatever you need. I swear, I’ll do it. Just don’t… I don’t ever want to know what Crowley did with his tongue. Okay?”

The puppy dog eyes and pout slowly melted away into the biggest grin.

“Do you wanna see my ring again?”

***

Next was Sam. Crowley sent Sam a text message which read, simply, ‘Meet me at Starbucks at three.’ And - for the Hell of it - he put a little angel emoticon, a heart, and then a demon emoticon. And then two cups of coffee emoticons. Crowley had embraced the modern era with all the enthusiasm of a father who thought it was cool to have a twitter account and post bad jokes. 

Sam did indeed turn up at three. Crowley was relieved. 

“What is your poison, Moose?”

“Er. Anything with caffeine in.”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re secretly a chai latte man, aren’t you?”

“Just get me a coffee, Crowley.”

“Of course.”

He got Sam the chai latte and then he got him a little caramel waffle too. He got himself a mocha with cream on top and a chocolate stirry stick, plus biscotti. He beamed broadly at Sam as he brought the tray over, feeling a little bit like he was slumming it. But this was closer to Sam’s natural habitat than his own, and he was trying to make an effort.

“Here you go.” He put Sam’s drink in front of him, then placed the waffle on top. Sam appeared to be amused by his ministrations, but Crowley refused to let a thing like pride get in the way of this.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“Oh, Sam, but I do.”

“You can just - you know - talk to me. I’m not Cas. Hell, I’m not even Dean.”

“I know. Dean is more of a marshmallows on top kind of a guy, am I right?”

Sam sighed and pulled his drink towards him, hands wrapping around the cup. “So… I’m guessing this visit has something to do with the angel on a sugar-rush we had to deal with last night, and the--” his eyes tracked down to Crowley’s left hand, noticing the matching ring, “--bling.”

“It is not ‘bling’. It’s tasteful. It’s platinum and onyx.”

“Yeah, okay, it is tasteful. I’m just… surprised, is all. Dean told me you were going to do it, but I didn’t… I dunno. I just didn’t peg you for the ‘ring’ type.”

“I take this very seriously, Moose. And I know Castiel would - _does_ \- appreciate me publically declaring myself off limits for all other claimants.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Sam sipped at his beverage, and Crowley was left just… staring.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, I do. It’s…” Expansive shoulders shrugged. “It’s just sweet. All… old fashioned. And… almost normal considering who you both are.”

Crowley swirled his little chocolate stick around, mulling it over. “He makes me want to… want to be. Normal. I suppose. He makes me want to do all the things I didn’t do right the first time around. Well… I thought I did at the time, but you saw how it turned out.” He shrugged. 

“Your human wife?”

“Yeah. We weren’t really soul mates. But back then, we didn’t have the same things you kids do now. No such thing as cars or internet. Hell, we didn’t even have cable.”

“I’m glad you have your priorities in order.” The younger Winchester started to munch on his waffle. Crowley was pleased to see he had picked well.

“I do. My priorities are Cas, Cas and Cas. In that order. Followed by a side-order of Cas.” Crowley shrugged. “But you know that already, so it’s moot.”

“Why did you ask me out for coffee, then? I know you asked Dean for Cas’ hand, so… is this just a social call or did you want something?”

Crowley put a hand on his chest, looking deeply wounded. “Must the King of Hell want something if he asks to see someone?”

“Generally speaking: yeah.” Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, man. You can ask me stuff. I did say I’d be here for you, and… well. Since you started dating Cas it seems to be doing you the world of good.”

“I’m still Lord of the Damned. And the Dance.” Crowley wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, though.

“I know that. So… come on.”

The demon let out a long-suffering sigh, pulled out the melted stick and sucked the remnants from the plastic sword. “I want… I wanted to ask for your help. For one, I think Cas would like the traditional religious ceremony. Which presents me with several problems, not least of which being most priests would refuse to marry two… male-inhabiting creatures on principle. And of those who _would_ , if they found out that… if they discovered that an angel wanted…”

“I get you. Yeah. That could be a problem.”

“So you see my dilemma?”

“I do, but it’s not the end of the world. I could help find someone for you.”

Crowley tapped the little plastic stick against his mug, eyes studiously avoiding the hunter.

“...do you want me to?”

The demon’s jaw went tight. Sam wondered if maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“I - yes - please.” The words sounded painful.

Sam wondered if maybe Crowley hadn’t actually _asked_ someone for something without offering anything in return for a while. The demon was still doing his best to ignore him, which was awkward considering he’d asked him to come in the first place.

“No sweat. I’ll do it for you. I know you’ll have your plate full with all the rest of the planning. Just give me the date and I’ll sort it for you.”

“Thank… you.”

It actually sounded almost like an angry insult. Sam winced at how painful it was. Crowley was now eyeing up the clientele of the little coffee shop and nursing his very effeminate drink. 

“It’s not going to be a big affair.” The demon’s voice was still strained. 

Sam was beginning to think that this wedding was going to look more of a farce than anything else, and that was kind of sad. Cas, for one, deserved better, and he figured he and Dean would have to make sure that happened. And how the hell did you even throw a bachelor party for an angel?

“It doesn’t need to be. It’s whatever makes you and Cas happy.”

“It should be.” Crowley sounded bitter. “It should be huge. It should be the social event of the… of _forever_. But… I am relatively confident that none of his siblings will turn up. Lucifer or… well… bad things happened to the only ones who were any good, other than Cas. His Father won’t turn up because He apparently washed His hands of us all years ago and thinks it’s time we did everything for ourselves…”

Crowley now looked somewhere over Sam’s shoulder. He could tell this was really what was bugging him, now. “...everyone… I knew. As a human. They’re all long-since dead. And you don’t really make _friends_ in Hell. You make enemies. And useful contacts. And more enemies. I wouldn’t trust any of my staff as far as I could throw them. It’s… not the… most sociable of workforces.”

“Hey, man, you don’t need those other demons. You’ve got a wonderful fiancé, and you’ve got me and Dean. Do you really need people there who don’t mean anything to you?”

“I just… I just want it to be perfect for Cas.” Crowley was now pushing his drink around morosely. “He deserves to be spoilt rotten. And…”

“Hey. Crowley. Cas is insanely in love with you. If you saw the way he was when he came to tell us? Dude. You’ve got no complaints there. We’ll find a few cool people to invite around if it makes you feel any better. And you don’t have to do it right away, anyway. I know you’ll want to make it… special. So just… just relax. It’s going to be the best… angel-demon wedding the universe has ever seen.”

Crowley managed a weak smile. “You say the sweetest things, you know. You’re going to make a lady-moose very happy one day.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

“I do have one more thing I want to ask you…”

“Shoot…”

“I find myself in the… well if we’re going to do things ‘right’ and traditional, as I assume we will be. As much as is possible, of course. Considering we are both essentially immortal - give or take a -” Crowley noticed Sam was staring at him in a ‘get to the point’ way. “What I am trying to say is: I am sure Cas will ask Dean… to be his maid of honour…”

“You… you want me to…?”

Crowley looked about ready to melt Sam into a million little pieces. “Yes. I do.”

“Well… I’m honored. I am, Crowley.”

“I know. You should be. It’s not every day someone as powerful as me asks you to be a ring-bearer.”

“Dude, you did not just call me a Hobbit.”

“Well I know you like dwarfs, Mooseboy.”

“Dwarfs are not Hobbits, Crowley.”

“I know that. God, Sam, what do you take me for?”

“Someone who needs a bachelor party planning.”

Crowley’s head tilted almost like Cas’. “...do you really think that’s wise?”

“Dude. If I’m your best man, then I am throwing you a bachelor party.”

“I can drink anyone under the table. I can drink the _table_ , if I so choose, it just happens that tables do not taste very good. I speak from experience on that one.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Sam asked.

“Probably not.”

“Well… it’s the principle of the thing. I have to get you wasted and I have to get you a stripper. I think. I haven’t actually… organised a bachelor party before.”

“Neither have I,” Crowley admitted. “Back then you just asked for permission, got it, then finally banged the missus for the first time and hoped she didn’t cry.”

“Did she?”

“Cry?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… no.” Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me about my dead wife?”

“I just… I don’t know much about you, really. Sorry if that sounded insensitive. I just was curious.”

“She didn’t cry. It was all very boring. Humanity was dull and depressing. It only got interesting after… after I died. Even after I sold my soul I didn’t really enjoy it all that much. It turned out that I should have wished for more interesting things…”

“So do you regret doing it?”

“Making that first deal?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting question.” Crowley sipped at his mocha, letting it slide thickly down his throat. It was rather too sweet now he’d stirred the chocolate stick in, so he narrowed his eyes and upped the caffeine quotient. “Yes and no.”

“You gonna elaborate on either?”

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

Sam smiled. “No.”

“No, I don’t regret it.” Crowley shrugged. “Sure, the years of hellfire and torment and torture… those weren’t the best times I’ve ever had. Not to begin with, anyway. But eventually… eventually it’s not so bad. You learn to love it. You learn to love… _doing_ it. And I got a pretty sweet deal with the Crossroads. It was always so… _satisfying_. Pulling someone apart to see what made them tick… giving them the most torturous contracts to sign… I took great pride in my work.” He shrugged. “And one day, I was in control. I was in control of everything. Me… little old me. And I thought I had it all, Sam. Really I did.”

“But it wasn’t what you really wanted, was it?” Sam finished his drink and sat back. “I heard what you said to me. Back in the church. I heard… you… Crowley. The real you.”

“I…” An answering shrug. “Sod it. So yes, there was that. I… I do love him, Sam. I know it’s utterly insane and Heaven and Hell both think we’ve finally lost the plot… but I do. God help me, but I am utterly, crazily, insanely in love with him. And I’d trade a thousand more years in the pit being tormented if it meant I got to come out and see him when it was over.” The demon looked a little pale as he spoke, imagining it. Imagining it and shivering.

“I’m beginning to think the original contract I signed was… not the real one.”

“You think… you think selling your soul got you Cas?”

“How else do you explain it?”

“Dude… I don’t think… I don’t think you’re supposed to give up your soul for love.”

Crowley snorted. “This coming from the family that remortgages their souls every six months or so? Always for someone else? Always for some ‘greater good’?”

“Okay. Point taken.”

“Well, there you have it. I thought I was buying… I thought I was buying something else, but it turns out I actually…” Crowley laughed. “I don’t think I came out of the deal badly.”

“What about… Hell?”

“What about it?”

“How… how are you still running it?”

“Demons respect strength. As long as I’m strong enough to keep it, then they’ll follow me. As long as I can keep them all in line, then they will do as I say.”

“But… don’t you think… don’t you think it’s a bit hypocritical to still be running it?”

“Hell will always need a leader, Sam. Isn’t it better it was me rather than Abaddon?”

“Yeah. I get that. But how can you… how can you go from marrying an angel and restoring Heaven to… you know. Eternal torment of the damned?”

“God will always need someone to apply thumbscrews, Sammy. You can’t have Free Will and not have Hell.” Crowley opened up his biscotti and crunched it noisily down. “Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy what’s being done to people. But it still does need doing. Otherwise there’s no justice and humanity will dissolve into anarchy.”

“You really believe that people behave only because there’s a shot at Heaven?”

“Nope. But I know if there was no Hell, then people _would_ be different.” He sighed, heavily. “They require punishment… we give it to them. Simple.”

“Okay. I can… I can understand that.”

“Have we quite done discussing my humanity, my inhumanity and my re-election manifesto? Are you sufficiently knowledgeable about all things Crowley to write my best man speech?”

Sam’s eyes twinkled. “No, but I’m getting there. You want another coffee?”

“Fine. But make sure there’s two extra shots in there this time. I can still feel my tongue.”

“No problem. Coming right up…”

***

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” Kevin mumbled under his breath to Sam. “What if I get - I dunno - struck down by a lightning bolt or my tongue falls out or something?”

“Relax.” Sam clapped Kevin on the shoulder. “After that bachelor party, if God was going to strike anyone down it would have been during the striptease…”

“Please don’t remind me of that.” The prophet of the Lord went very pale, hands clutching the Bible tighter. “I would be grateful if we never spoke about anything after the tequila grenades ever again.”

“Okay. But it was funny.”

From her chair at the front of the makeshift chapel, Mrs. Tran tutted. She was wearing a very sober hat to go with her very sober outfit. 

“Dude… not in front of my mom…”

“Sorry Mrs. Tran,” Sam said, with a little nod.

“Boys will be boys,” was all she said. 

They had converted one of the big training rooms into the chapel. There was a heavy desk draped with a white cloth and several candles burning atop it. Although more people were invited to the party planned afterwards, Cas and Crowley had decided that they only really wanted people they knew at the ceremony itself. This meant that there were only a few seats laid out, and the audience consisted of Mrs. Tran (who no one called anything but that, except for Kevin, who called her ‘Mom’), Garth (who had been introduced to them on their respective bachelor parties and who liked them as readily as he liked anyone he met), Charlie (who had _not_ been invited to the bachelor parties but who had somehow wound up there anyway), Benny (who Sam still wasn’t sure why or how he was there), Hadrian (who could not be separated from his Antinous even if you tried) and then Cupid. Which meant the ‘aisle’ was two chairs deep.

At the front of the room stood Kevin Tran - prophet of the Lord and newly ordained minister - who was wearing the robes rather uncomfortably and shifting from foot to foot. Sam stood close by, waiting for the demon to finish checking himself out for the fifteen millionth time that day.

“Crowley… it’s time,” Sam called out.

Crowley was just in the next room, having a minor nervous breakdown. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ this to happen… no. He very much did. He _very_ much did. He wanted to do nothing but spend the rest of eternity with his angel on his arm. Or in his arms. Or on his lap. Or between his thighs. Or… 

...it was just that this was so very… it was so very _formal_ and _final_ and he wasn’t sure he’d done it justice. It should be perfect. It should be better than perfect. It was the wedding of - of _forever_ \- and **for** forever. His angel deserved nothing less than everything he could ever want and more. His angel deserved the best damn wedding that it was possible to give… and Crowley wasn’t convinced he’d managed to pull it off. No matter how many times Sam told him it wasn’t how they did it, it was the fact they _were_ doing it, Crowley’s innate need to _show_ and _give_ and _please_ were at odds with everything anyone said to him. 

“Just a minute, darling,” he called out through the door. “I’m just powdering my nose.”

And checking his immaculate black suit out once more. Fingers sliding over the heavy black fabric, or re-seating the single white flower in his buttonhole (the twin to Cas’ red one, and he knew that was the perfect choice. Knew it was so very, very right.) He ran his hands through his neatly trimmed hair and paced.

He was surprised to look up and see Sam had come in anyway to chase him out. 

“Dude, you’re going to be late. You said you wanted to be there for when Dean walks Cas up the aisle.”

“I know, I know what I said, Moose.”

“So come on. And stop worrying.”

“I can’t,” he snapped, peevishly. “M-- Sam, I _can’t_.”

Two heavy hands pressed onto his shoulder blades and started to manhandle Crowley through the door. “As your best man, I am going to order you out there. You _have_ to be out there. Cas is waiting for you. Your future husband is waiting for you to man up.”

“I’m not afraid.” Crowley dug his heels in and prevented any further forward motion.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You implied it heavily.”

“No, Crowley. I know you’re not afraid. You’re shy. And that’s weird as all Hell, but also sort of cute.”

“I AM NOT CUTE.”

“Yeah, well, today you are. Come on, man. It’s my sacred duty to get you in there to say your vows. You and Cas faced down everything for this, so don’t let cold feet or pride stop you at the last hurdle.”

Crowley sighed and relented. “Fine.”

Sam smiled. “Good. Now… come on.” 

“I’m still cross with you for calling me cute, though.”

“You can be cross with me all you want when you’re stood in front of Kevin.”

“ _Fine_ ,” he said again, and stormed into the room, glowering as he went.

But Sam knew that really, deep down, the demon was touched. And he knew he was the best best man ever. Especially considering the tequila incident.

***

Cas was in the adjacent room, staring at his reflection in the mirror with mounting consternation. His suit matched Crowley’s perfectly, except from the flower on his lapel. They had originally joked about him wearing white, but Dean put a very emphatic kibosh on that while mumbling something about Lucifer and the end of days. Cas didn’t feel like arguing, he had been in far too good of a mood lately to argue about such things as fashion choices.

“This is stupid. Why couldn’t we just go in together?” he turned towards the hunter.

“Because, man. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” Dean explained, patiently, trying to smooth Castiel’s lapels, which were already perfectly aligned. Dean shifted from foot to foot and nervously brushed his lower lip with his thumb. “You’ll see him soon enough.”

“These ‘traditional’ things we’re doing, they seem… superfluous.” 

He had used his fingers to make air quotes again and Dean felt his heart squeeze a little tighter. His angel was all grown up and about to get married.

“Well, Crowley wants to do it right.” Truthfully, Dean thought the whole thing was over the top, but he didn’t want to ruffle Castiel’s literal feathers anymore than he already seemed ruffled. “C’mon. It’s adorable. And you know it.”

“Of course it’s adorable,” Cas agreed, adjusting his french cuffs again, needlessly. His finger felt bare without the ring on it - he had taken it off and given it to Dean for the ceremony. 

“You are anxious,” Dean pointed out the obvious.

“Yes. I want to get it over with.”

“That’s no way to talk about your impending nuptials,” Dean snickered.

“I’m in love. I’m eager. And horny. And I wish to get to the good parts.” Cas’ eyes were brimming with anticipation. 

Dean laughed and shook his head. He was waiting for their cue - the music. Cas had vetoed the traditional march from _Lohengrin_ in favor of the instrumental version of _Va Pensiero_ from Verdi’s _Nabucco_. There was, of course, no one who could object to his musical choices, least of all Dean.

“I’m proud of you, Cas. And I’m really happy for you. You’re going to make Crowley the luckiest demon.” Dean cleared his throat because it was still weird saying something like that, strange to be actively welcoming Crowley into the family, stranger yet to be leading his best friend to the altar to wed him to the King of Hell. But strange had always been part of the family business.

“Thank you, Dean. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

They stared at each other in another one of their epic silences. There was more that Castiel wanted to say, but his hunter was always so closed off to discussions that involved feelings. Still, he was there and that meant the world to Cas.

“You taught me how to love, you know,” Cas finally said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Wow, so this is all my fault?” Dean joked, but Cas could tell that he had gotten choked up at the words. 

“I am who am I am in a large part because of you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel admitted, to himself as well as to his friend.

“Save it for the toast,” Dean replied, blushing furiously. He often wished Cas wasn’t quite so open with his thoughts and feelings, but he did secretly enjoy knowing how important he had been to the angel, how special. That this powerful, celestial being somehow preferred him above all others (well, second only to the King of Hell, apparently) was a strangely comforting idea.

The opening chords of _Va Pensiero_ sounded from the training room. It was time.

Cas looked up at Dean, his eyes flashing behind a veil of mist. He looked simultaneously full of hope and terror.

“I’m going to be happy, right, Dean?”

“You are, Cas. You deserve it.”

He pulled the angel into a bear hug, as much to reassure him with his physical presence as to hide the glistening of tears in his own eyes that threatened to become apparent. Dean Winchester did not cry at weddings. He held Cas longer than he should have, probably, but it wasn’t every day that you got to lead your angel best friend to the altar. 

Finally, Dean pulled away, once again quickly smoothed Cas’ suit and accoutrements out, before straightening up and offering his elbow to Cas, graciously.

“It’s time, buddy,” he said, grinning at the angel on his arm.

“It’s time,” Castiel repeated and followed Dean towards the sounds of the music.

***

Crowley was standing in front of Kevin, Sam moosing tallishly just to the side. His hauntedly worried expression melted openly when the doors opened and there was Cas. (Somewhere - deep down inside - had been the fear he might change his mind and not turn up, or be stricken from above, or... kidnapped by Dean or another angel or some malevolent deity or one of his own...)

But he was there. And he was achingly beautiful in his smart black suit. Crowley wanted to grab him and pin him into a wall and kiss him senseless and say 'fuck it' to all the nicely laid plans. That would be suitably demonic. Mrs. Tran would probably use her handbag to hit him. The mental image made him fight back a smirk.

No. He wanted to do this right. Wanted to show everyone once and for all that this was the real thing. The kind of love epic ballads were sung into hairbrushes about, or weepy films, or any number of ways that seemed gratuitously exaggerated until you experienced it for yourself. His face softened and his eyes shone as he did his best to contain the swirling emotions. With effort, he looked away from Cas to nod a thanks to Dean, then he offered his left hand to Cas.

"You look fabulous, darling," Crowley told him, but for once there was no undercurrent to his tone. He squeezed Cas' hand and beamed at him. 

Cas felt Dean’s arm slip from around his own, a brush of the hunter’s hand on his lower back, gently pressing him forward before standing aside. He hadn’t needed the encouragement. Crowley’s hand on his was already setting his nerve endings aflame, the smallest touch still sending him reeling. He had been impatient, but looking into his beloved’s face now, with all the pride and adoration painted on it, and even the leftover creases of shy uncertainty still hiding in the corners of his eyes, Castiel was reminded why it was all worth waiting for. He was loved so fiercely, despite all his faults, nay _because_ of them, and it made him want to be a better angel, a better _man_.

He squeezed Crowley’s hand back, his own face beaming with an expression of gratitude that he hoped his groom would be able to understand, and faced towards the altar and Kevin Tran - the boy, the _prophet_ , who was about to bind them for all eternity. Cas had never been more happy to see the kid.

“Kevin,” Crowley said, his voice superficially calm but hiding a lot in the undertones. “If you would be so kind.”

“Uhm. Yes. Sure.” The prophet glanced from Cas to Dean to Sam and then back to straight forward. It still didn’t look like anyone was under duress, and no amount of holy water flung on the three of them had proven this anything but… real. So. Here went nothing.

“First, on behalf of the groom and… groom, I would like to thank you all for coming here today,” Kevin started. “I know for some of you, you’ve known Castiel for many years. I know he’s family to you - if not by blood, then by choice.” He nodded at Dean, then at Sam.

“Some of you have only just gotten to know him,” and now he nodded at his mother, Charlie, Garth and Benny. He wasn’t so sure about the other supernatural entities, so he didn’t speak for them. “But I know that anyone the Winchesters call family is someone worth knowing. And hopefully you’ll all have many years to find that out.”

The prophet bit his lip. “...the fact that the other person here… is a demon… is something none of us can ignore. And it’s only through our faith that love is capable of conquering anything that we’re here to witness this ceremony. I’m no expert on marriage - I’m just a prophet - but if this can happen then… then anything can.”

Crowley shifted a little uncomfortably. It was not as if he needed reminding that he had no friends here, other than Castiel and now, it seemed, Sam. But he had to face the embarrassment for Cas’ sake. 

“So. I’m not going to read anything from the Bible, because at least one of you was here when it was written. I’m not going to read any poems, because I think you don’t need them. I’m just going to ask you to say your vows in front of everyone… because no one is going to explain this better than you will.”

Kevin paused and looked to Crowley first. “Crowley. Please would you tell Cas what you told me?”

The demon nodded and turned to face Cas, still holding his hand.

“Castiel. I love you, even though it makes no sense. I love you, even though it flies in the face of everything I have ever been or known. You make me a better person. You make me _want_ to be a better person. You bring faith into my faithless life. You put hope into Hell itself. And so I promise to you - on everything I hold dear, in a contract more binding than any I could ever write - that I am yours, for the rest of eternity. I will love you with all that I am. I will give you anything you need. I will be yours, and only yours, and whatever is left of my soul belongs to you.”

Crowley swallowed. He was aware that everyone was watching him, and it was making his face hot. He hoped everyone could see he was sincere in this, because he was. He meant every last word - including the words he hadn’t said, but would in private. 

Castiel pressed the hand that was holding his and leaned forward - the urge to press his lips against Crowley’s was irrepressible. 

“Ahem,” Kevin admonished demonstratively, shooting uncomfortable looks around the room. “Castiel?”

“What?” Cas felt miffed, to say the least. He just wanted this to be over with so that he could hear Crowley say with his body what he couldn’t possibly convey with his words.

“You still have to do your vows,” Dean prodded from behind.

“Oh.” Cas felt Crowley’s hand pressing his tighter, lips drawn into a poorly suppressed smile. He straightened his back out, eyes still fixed on his beloved’s mouth, his brain replaying the words that he just heard.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Your vows?” Kevin prompted again. Leave it to Crowley to do this better than an actual angel. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t write any,” Cas said, and before Crowley’s face had another chance to wilt before his gaze, he continued. “I was trying to write them last night and I had this piece of paper before me and a pen and just… the very thought of trying to set down how I feel for you on a piece of parchment seemed so insurmountable an obstacle. How am I ever supposed to put down in words what I can barely even comprehend with my very Grace? A language has not been invented yet that would allow me to do such a thing.” He paused and pressed Crowley’s hand to his breast. “There was a time when I had lost so much, and you gave me more than I could have wanted. You believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself. You were my lover through your body but also through _love_ , because you wielded it as a palpable force, you brandished it as a weapon, carried it like a banner, an oriflamme beneath which I felt strong enough to fight again. You gave _me_ back to myself, and I have given myself to _you_. I’m sorry that this is the best I can do. I love you.”

Cas needn't have worried. Crowley made a choked little noise, emotion just bursting out without words to tame it into sense. His eyes were stinging and he blinked furiously through it, clutching Cas' hand tighter. He wanted to just say 'screw it' and vanish out with his angel and - well - screw him. He wanted so very badly to kiss him and never stop. But he said he'd do this properly, so... there were a few more hoops to jump. But not many. 

"Perfect, angel," he said, voice rough with feeling. Damned feelings. 

His eyes never left Cas' face. They couldn't. He couldn't look away if the world was ending. "Prophet..."

"Uh. Yes. Would the best men...?"

Sam stood forwards first. He'd already swapped rings with Dean so they had the right ones. He stood just beside Crowley and held open the little box with the ring snuggled inside. 

"Thank you M-- Sam," Crowley said, turning at last - letting go of Cas' hand just to take the ring and hold it out - left hand up for Cas to rest his wrist on, his fingers curling possessively around it to keep it in place. 

"Let this ring be proof before the eyes of the universe that you belong to me and me alone." As he slipped it onto Cas' finger, he lit up the broken sigil inside. A private little joke as it burned in a nice way around his finger, much like he'd done in more... intimate places in the past. Perhaps he smirked just a little. It would be hard to hold it against him. It was - after all - a promise of things to come. _I love you so damn much,_ he thought, where only Cas could hear, fingers stroking up to his knuckles then down over his fingers - past the ring - releasing him slowly. Another promise. _More than mere metal and stone can say._

Cas smiled, his eyes narrowing in pleasure at the burn around his finger, hand letting go of Crowley's reluctantly. He shot another impatient look towards Dean, who beamed back at him, the ring at the ready in his hand. The angel grabbed it and quickly slid it around his intended's finger, speedily uttering, "Let this ring be proof before the eyes of the universe that you belong to _me_ and me alone." There was a heavenly spark in his eyes that accompanied his own heat shooting through the metal and into Crowley's flesh. _Are we done yet? May I kiss you now?_ , he asked, not wanting to fluster the poor Prophet of the Lord any further.

Crowley shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling awkwardly… interested. _If you don’t, I might…_ He didn’t get to the point of saying what he might do. Instead both hands went up to Cas’ face and tugged him in. The demon arched up, head tilted to one side, lips barely parted as he took Cas’ mouth with his own. His tongue slipped out and teased Cas’ lower lip, pulling it down, dipping just inside.

“Er… you may now… kiss the groom?” Kevin said, looking firmly down at his notes.

_You think we could double-time this, or do I have to tie a bow around it and wait until after the speeches and the cake cutting and the dancing?_ Crowley asked, finding Cas’ tongue with his own and encouraging it to come out and play. It was his damn wedding day. He could do what he wanted, surely?

_This whole wedding thing was your idea, darling,_ Cas thought back, kissing Crowley with mounting vigor. _And surely you're not going to force me to dance? I do have my limits._ He pulled at Crowley's lapels, yanking him flush against his body, tongues sliding back and forth with practiced ease.

"Dammit, Cas," he heard mumbled behind him. Oh, oops. Castiel had forgotten they were in public. Someone else cleared their throat, possibly Mrs. Tran, whereas a slow clap coming from the "back" of the room was decidedly Hadrian. He was surprised the sly old fox wasn't whistling.

"Congratulations," Kevin said, still flushing to the very roots of his hair as Cas and Crowley finally pulled apart.

Crowley didn’t stand too far back, because if he did it… would have… been rather obvious where he did stand. _Let’s do the bare minimum, get them all plied with alcohol, and then we can consummate this deal in a way worthy of Heaven and Hell…_ His hand slid down to Cas’ again, taking it in his own. He wasn’t going to let go so easily.

“Well, congratulations,” Sam said, clapping Crowley on the shoulder. “Shall we get to the party, so you two can get to your honeymoon?”

“A more stellar suggestion have I never heard from your wicked tongue,” Crowley agreed. 

“Why you can’t just say ‘yes’...” Kevin mumbled, pulling the stupid robes off and rubbing a hand through his hair. 

“Allow me,” Crowley offered, clicking his fingers. Everyone not bolted down by their own powers found themselves relocated to the very large dining room. Everyone who _could_ say no was simply offered a ride. 

The cake was ridiculously extravagant. But then - so were most things Crowley did.

***

Sam had to admit the cake was good. He’d actually helped a bit with organising the reception, but Crowley had turned out to be a complete control freak and mostly Sam thought he was taken along for moral support whenever the demon had dragged him out on any of his ‘wedding planning’ things. At least Dean hadn’t had to do that. Sam didn’t think Dean would do that even for Cas. Even for _him_ , come to think.

Charlie was leaning against the bar and trying to chat up Cupid. Whether it was working or not, Sam couldn’t tell. It was sort of difficult to work out whether Cupid just found it professionally interesting, or actually appealing. 

And then there was the weird, bearded guy who was over by the _punch_ bowl. Sam could have sworn he didn’t actually get a punch bowl, or punch. It also seemed a very un-Crowley thing to do. And yet here was this bearded weirdo - who _also_ wasn’t planned - lingering by it and chatting up people left, right, and center.

“Dean… what the Hell, man?” he asked, nodding over at where Mrs. Tran was looking confused by all the attention. “Is he one of Benny’s friends?”

"No way, man," Dean protested through a drunken haze. "That guy looks like a hobo. Benny has way more class than that. Maybe he came with those two." Dean indicated Hadrian and Antinous, canoodling over by the ice sculpture. 

"Perhaps I should have one made of you, beloved," Hadrian had been saying, or rather cooing, in his resurrected darling's direction.

“You really want to ask them?” Sam’s nose wrinkled. “And I think Hadrian is maybe even _more_ of - er - I think he’s… you know. More than Crowley is.”

Benny, meanwhile, seemed cornered by Garth. Garth who was being his usual good-natured self, and trying to learn more about what it really ‘meant’ to be a vampire in today’s modern society, surrounded by tawdry romance novels and the 24/7 culture.

"Maybe we just go up to him, slip some holy water into his punch?" Dean proposed. "Or is that rude? I mean, he could be a friend of Crowley's."

Sam was mid-shrug when the man turned, to follow Mrs. Tran with his eyes and Dean almost spat out his whiskey.

"Holy shit, Sammy. I know that douchebag." Dean grabbed onto his brother and pulled him down, bringing his ear in perfect alignment with his lips so that he could whisper rather loudly, "IT'S GOD."

Sam jumped back in shock. He looked over to where God was getting a slap to the face by the no-nonsense mother who then stormed off to see where her son was. Her son who was currently discussing the food spread with Death, who had arrived late saying this part was always his favourite. 

"Holy shit! _The_ God? Like... Cas' dad? He came after all?" He whistled through his teeth. "Should we... I mean... You don't get to meet God very often."

As Mrs. Tran passed them, Sam's eyes narrowed. "He seemed awfully interested in Kevin's mom. You think it's the first time they met?"

"Dude, I don't care," Dean muttered, backing away. "I just don't want him to see me and smite me. He was hard core into the Old Testament shit when we last met."

As if reading his mind, or quite possibly, actually reading his mind, the uninvited guest turned towards the Winchesters and exclaimed, "Dean!"

Sam moved to stand behind his brother. There was no way he could hide, but suddenly he felt nervous. “Uhm…” Maybe he could ditch his brother with God and find someone - anyone - else to talk to.

"You're out of the meatballs, my friend," spoke the Lord. "I expected more from you. Oh, and hello there, Sam. You may come out from behind your sibling. You look ridiculous trying to cower behind someone shorter than you." 

The Lord strolled over, twirling a toothpick umbrella in His hand. Dean wondered where He procured that because they certainly had not provided any tropical drinks at this shindig and cast another suspicious look in Hadrian's direction.

"Well? Don't look agape. I gave you the gift of speech - use it!" the Lord commanded.

“Uhm. It’s nice to meet you,” Sam tried, rubbing his arm and side-stepping slightly from behind his brother. “I’m… a big fan of your work?” What the hell else did you say? “Can I get you anything?”

"And I'm a big fan of yours!" the Lord beamed. "I know it may not always feel like the WINchesters are big winners, but I assure you, you have won the genetic lottery, at the very least." The Lord did stroke his beard and it was good.

"Are you... here to smite anyone?" Dean interjected.

"Oh no, that's so pre-therapy Me," replied the Lord. "I've really mellowed out since Sodom and Gomorrah. Took time off, tried to focus more on Myself, My own needs, Creator Me-time, you know? It's important. Tension headaches are a real bitch when you're supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent."

“...who do you even go to for… no, I don’t think I want to know.” Sam shuddered. “So. Er.” He looked to Dean for help. “...so you… got any deep, meaningful advice for us?”

"Why would I?" inquired the Lord. "I just came here for the ladies and the drinks, if you catch My drift." He looked around the room. "Albeit, it is rather slim pickings in that department. It's a bit of a sausage party, isn't it?"

Suddenly a hiss sounded from across the room - Crowley had spotted their Guest of Honor.

“Uhm…” Sam was thinking of something to say, but then he realised that maybe there was worse to come. “I take it you haven’t spoken to your new son-in-law yet…”

“ _You_ ,” said Crowley, storming over with his angel attached firmly to his arm. The heels against the floorboards did nothing to halt him, and he dragged them both over. “You! You go missing for thousands of years, You let everything go to shit and You make me kill my angel and then You have the _indecency_ to skip the vows and come straight for the booze? What the hell kind of role model of a father _are you_?”

It was possible Crowley was a little inebriated.

“Crowley--” Sam tried to interject.

“This is between _Him_ , me and Cas, Moose, you might want to step away from the family reunion in case it comes to handbags.”

The Lord turned around to face His accuser and responded with a divine hiccup.

"Oh, hey Crowley. Long time, etcetera. You're shorter than I remember." The Lord leered.

“Well…” Crowley’s frown grew more grumpy kitten by the second. “That’s beside the point.” His eyes narrowed. “You should have been there for Cas.” And - after the barest pause - "...And you could have dressed in something _slightly_ smarter. Don't they have tailors in... wherever the Hell You live?"

"Wow, aren't you a stickler for propriety. What about honoring thy Father-in-Law? Pretty sure that was one of my five hundred commandments to Moses and his peeps." The Lord shrugged and transformed His attire into a long-tailed tuxedo. "Better?"

"You didn't have to come," Castiel spoke up before Crowley had a chance to make an already tense situation worse.

"What?" The Lord looked indignant. "One of my favorite sons makes such a tabloid fodder match and I'm going to sit it out? Ha! Imagine the headlines in Heaven!"

Crowley visibly bristled. He squared up to God and was about to give Him what for when he saw Sam making a hand slitting throat gesture over God’s shoulder. His mouth snapped shut. 

“Just because none of your other children have found eternal love is no reason to mock my precious angel,” Crowley settled on. “And if _any of them_ say _anything_ against him when he’s the one who fixed Heaven and---”

Another ‘shut up gesture’. Crowley seethed at Sam, then stalked off towards the alcohol before he said something that would result in him being turned into a pillar of meatballs or worse.

"Uh..." Cas muttered, looking from Dean to Sam to his Father. "Awkward."

"Listen, Castiel," the Lord continued, draping an almost Fatherly arm around the angel's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, lad. You really go balls out, you know what I mean? I love balls. I told you this back in Egypt." He steered the groom towards the ice sculptures. "Couldn't let this event go without dropping by to offer my blessing. So..." He paused, looking Cas square in the eye. "You be happy, Cas. And if you ever need anything again..." He pressed something into the angel's palm. It felt warm against his vessel's skin. "That will help you contact me."

Cas looked into the palm of his hand, seeing a small circular piece of metal there, resembling a coin. 

"What do I do with...?" he looked up, but his companion had apparently evaporated. "This?" he finished. "Well, great. Thanks, Dad." He puffed out his chest and stuck the coin into the pocket of his suit slacks, eyes mechanically searching out his husband.

Crowley, meanwhile, was on the warpath. He'd picked up a bottle of Craig and a bottle of champagne and he had one in each hand. He stormed off to where Hadrian was going gaga over Antinous and came to a halt in front of them. If he couldn't say it to God's face then he was sure as Hell going to say it somewhere else because _no one_ made fun of his husband and just because you're the Creator of everything and Castiel's father it did not give you the right to be a shithead and only a desire not to further upset Cas or make a scene or end up disintegrated had made him back down.

"Your father is a dick," Crowley said, drinking from one bottle. "It's no wonder you all came out maladjusted." The other bottle. "And frankly I'm surprised you all manage to cope as well as you do." Back to the first bottle. "You probably all need years of therapy." The second again.

"You don't have to tell me," Hadrian agreed melodiously. "This is why I escaped to Earth in the early A.D.s. The whole Operation Jesus just got to be too tacky for me." He stroked Antinous' hair to soothe himself. 

"But you're coping remarkably well," Hadrian's deified and resurrected lover interjected. "Considering he actually had you slay Castiel in a ritual."

"You had the right idea jumping then," Crowley agreed. "And you got away remarkably intact, considering what happened to your older brother." The demon shuddered and took another - significantly longer - drink.

"And that," he said to Antinous, "was horrific. Thanks ever so much for reminding me. In fact, do you think if I sweet talk Death he'll take God down for me? Because if I bitchslap Him in public it probably will be the last thing I do and I'm rather invested in consummating my marriage and showing Castiel our lawfully wedded home..." 

"I think I've had enough of this socially mandated ritual," Castiel appeared behind Crowley, as if on cue, pressing his forehead against the demon's shoulder with an air of tired despondency. "Can we cut the cake tomorrow?" He looked up at Crowley soulfully, blinking up at him with slow precision.

"I think we can cut our own cake," Hadrian waved his hand apparating something that looked like a small scimitar in his grip. "Why don't you two just make yourselves scarce and get on with all the... consummating?"

Crowley reached behind him to find Cas’ hands, tugging them around his waist, pulling his husband in snug. He peered over his shoulder at Cas. “You think we can leave them to carry on partying without us, angel mine?” It was an appealing prospect. He had such plans… “...did God leave?”

"Mmmhmmm," Cas breathed into Crowley's ear. "He's gone. And I'm horny." He smiled at Hadrian, who toasted him in moral support.

Crowley rubbed back against him to test the hypothesis, his smirk getting wider. “Take these,” he said to Antinous, shoving the bottles into his hands and not taking no for an answer. Meaning he could properly grab hold of Cas’ hands. “Close your eyes, Cas, and don’t open them until I say you can.”

Cas did as he was told, shutting his eyes and holding on tighter to Crowley, as his husband made the parting proclamation.

“Ladies and gentlemen and none of the above… Cas and I would like to thank you for coming and invite you to continue to enjoy the Winchesters’ hospitality. _Please_. Do.” He blew a kiss to Dean and vanished them both with a sly wink.

***

When they reappeared it was already pitch black. They’d jumped several time zones, clearly, but the stars were the same as they would soon be in Kansas. He wriggled out of Cas’ arms and went to stand behind him and put his hands over Cas’ eyes. “Come on… I’ve got something to show you.”

He walked him forward a little - up to the gates. Then he dropped his hands and put them on Cas’ hips, pulling him back in snug. “Surprise…”

Here - in the middle of nowhere - was the heavy, double-gated entrance to their new home. Beyond the gates was the path leading up to the very spacious villa, winding through the start of their even more spacious garden. Somewhere there was running water, because it trickled into the clean night air. “...not quite a vacation, but I thought we could do the whistlestop tour of the world after I show you… home?”

Cas took in the edifice in front of them and the flora around them. Even in the dark, he could see the lush greenery and the European accents in architecture around them. The air smelled ancient and warm.

"Are we in Italy?" He turned towards Crowley, placing his own hands on his newly minted husband. "Did you build this place? For us?" He shouldn't have been surprised that Crowley would go to such lengths after everything they've been through together, but this had been particularly touching. Cas never thought he would ever have a home again - even reopened, Heaven didn't feel like one, and Hell was, well... Hellish.

“Well… I can’t exactly take you back to the pit, and I’m demon-non-grata in Heaven, so it seemed like the best thing to do. We couldn’t keep borrowing parts of the Winchesters’ bunker, much as seeing Dean’s face in the morning was amusing.” His smile was briefly lop-sided and open, before he shrugged it off. “It’s warded against anything except us, for now. And if we want to entertain anyone all we have to do is add their name to the invitation list.”

A snap of fingers and the gates opened. “Italy? Yes. Tivoli. Just outside of Rome but far enough away to be quiet. In fact, our nearest real neighbour is Hadrian. So we can drop by and irritate them if we get bored of one another’s company…”

A hand on the small of his back and Crowley guided Cas in. He let the angel take in the garden without explanation - the small orchard, the olive trees, the modest amount of grapevines. There was a large decked area with generous wooden chairs, a swing, muted lights that illuminated pathways wandering off into the night. Crowley figured angels liked gardens, because of Eden and so on, so he’d made sure it was a big feature. “We have a little waterfall, too,” he said, because that was a further walk out. “Would you like to see it, or the inside first? I haven’t fully decorated inside because I thought you might want to put your stamp on the place, too. It’s supposed to be for both of us, after all, and my interior decorating still carries the faint smell of sulphur.”

Cas didn't need daylight to be able to see everything with stark precision. The garden radiated life and Renaissance symmetry.

"It's... perfect," he uttered, spinning around to take in the sights surrounding them like a mechanical top in his black suit. "Yes, take me to the waterfall, but first..." He pulled Crowley in by the lapels and pressed their lips together, humming softly against the pliant skin. "Thank you," he whispered and dove into his beloved's mouth again, overjoyed to finally have the berth and privacy to be able to indulge himself.

Crowley’s hands slid down over Cas’ back, over the fabric, finding his ass and pulling him flush. He wanted to eliminate all distance between them. Wanted to feel the heat of him in the cool night air. He let Cas in, let him set the pace and the direction… he was feeling indulgent and pleased for himself. Especially now they had left the revellers behind, and now it was just them and their new home. He rocked against his husband, no longer having to pretend he wanted anything but this. But him. 

Cas felt their breath speed up to match their heartbeats.

"Perhaps," he whispered against Crowley's lips, "The waterfall can wait?" His hands trailed downwards, to sneak beneath the tails of Crowley's suit, running his palms against the shapely globes of ass through the finely tailored material.

Teeth nipped gently at the angel’s mouth. He could tell Cas was as interested as he was… and at this rate they weren’t even going to make it to the threshold for either of them to carry the other. “Oh, love of my life… are you suggesting we take the slow tour of the premises?” His hand moved up - over a hip - pranging at the leather of his belt. “Even though I got you a _cinema_ , and the largest bed known to man, and not to mention what I put in the _basement_...” He slid a hand between them, fingers stroking over the front of Cas’ slacks and tracing the outline of the nice package he found waiting for him.

Cas whimpered in frustration and leaned into the strokes of Crowley's hand. 

"Yes, I want to see all those things," Cas spoke hoarsely, "but I also want to see you naked. It's quite the dilemma." The angel closed his eyes and sighed with contentment against his spouse's neck. 

Talented fingers found the fly and carefully - teasingly - dragged it down, the metal sound of teeth unkissing heavy in the still night air. A warm hand slipped inside, finding Cas’ engorged dick and rubbing the soft fabric of his briefs against it. Crowley pressed the neat, straight seam against Cas’ dick, stroking up and down in a tempo designed for maximum annoyance. “Well… how about we christen the garden, first, so you can concentrate better on the tour. I could…” fingernails scratching, a flat swipe of tongue over the bob of his adam’s apple, “...take the edge off, first, so you can focus… wouldn’t want you to be distracted and not appreciate all the _effort_ that went to in building my Prince’s castle…”

All of a sudden his hand left Cas’ pants, and he grabbed the lapels of his jacket. He hefted his angel up and in a blur slammed him into the nearest tree, mouth below his ear and growling into the crook of his neck, making Cas move so he could lavish attention where he wanted to, a thigh between his and a sinuous roll up against him a promise of more to come.

Up above them, Castiel could see the starry sky through the sparse foliage. Heaven above and Hell below and all the pressing needs of humanity definitely did not hold a candle to a single one of Crowley's touches and were just going to have to wait.

"This is why I married you," Cas replied, breath quickening and growing more erratic from his husband's attention. "Because you're always full of these brilliant ideas." He lifted one of his legs and wrapped it, like an amiable snake, around Crowley's hips, straining for more contact. "Are you very attached to that suit?" The angel's voice shook with earnest need. "Because I have an irresistible urge to send it the way of Metatron. Or at the very least rip it to shreds. Would that be a wedding night faux pas?" His hands were already tugging at the seams of the offending garment. Crowley looked fabulous in suits, but Castiel craved skin, and he ran his lips along the contours of his beloved's freshly shaven jaw.

It was a very, _very_ nice suit. Crowley would have wed in nothing less than the best, of course. But then… when would he ever wear it again? Not because it wasn’t worthy of it, but because what could ever possibly be more fitting for it than to die a brave death at the altar of their lust? A purr-growl that rumbled through Cas’ neck… “Save the flowers, angel, and the rest can burn to ash for all I care.”

His own hands moved to tug Cas’ shirt free from his waistband, popping buttons off as he yanked the fabric apart, a hand flat on his stomach - one finger teasing at the dip of his navel - burning that familiar heat deep into him. Hellfire. Hellfire and lust and more. His tongue traced the arch of his ear to the top and he nipped and tugged at the curve of it, before working down to worry over the thick, fleshy lobe - all the while grinding against his angel. Trees - it turned out - were helpfully similar to cages in many respects and he was beginning to like gardens for perhaps the first time ever.

Cas gave Crowley a toothy grin before gently removing the flower off his lapel and sending it off with a kiss.

"I love your sense of romance and priorities," the angel huffed and braced against the tree, his hands roughly pulling at the fabric in front of him, causing Crowley's jacket to fall in tatters to the ground. "You know how I hate waiting!" He pulled at the demon's belt, yanking it free of the loops. "Hm... might need that," he mused, tossing the leather strap into the tree, to be caught by the branches there. He returned his attention to Crowley's shirt. "Too many damn buttons," Cas pronounced, causing the aforementioned pearly clasps to go flying in every direction with a quick pull of his fingers. "You made me wait through both bachelor parties, through the ceremony, the entire damn reception," which each indictment, another article of clothing was being desecrated, "We haven't had any proper sex in over a week! Do you think I'm a saint?" Whatever Crowley was doing to his earlobe was simultaneously glorious and cheating. He angrily tore at the remnants of the starched shirt, accompanied the movement of his hands with a primal growl.

“No one,” Crowley said - the sound a little muted because he had his teeth full of Cas’ ear - “...would fink you a sain’... an’shel….” His own hands moved up in one short, sharp burst, tearing the shirt open from navel up to where the tie held it tight to his throat. He grabbed hold of Cas’ sides and pushed them low so he could rub thumbs over the slight thrust of hipbone whilst he let go of the ear and went to pull that tie open with just tongue and teeth. It tasted vile (fabric always did, all rough and dull against the tongue), but he didn’t care. Underneath was Cas, and Cas tasted divine. The tie surrendered and he spat it at the ground.

Which meant there was nothing stopping him literally rending the whole shebang from his angel’s chest. Even the cufflinks went flying (but he’d retrieve those later) and then hands went for his belt and pulled it free so fast Cas nearly got friction burns. 

(He should have been going slow. Slow and steady. Savouring this. Making it one for the record books. Crowley didn’t want slow. He wanted Cas panting and impaled and begging him for more. It was true he’d been holding out. Holding out so when they _did_ relent… it would be like this. Fierce and unstoppable. Like the first time. Dancing around until gravity or magnetism couldn’t bear to let them stay apart a moment longer.)

The slacks and underthings came off next. Crowley relented long enough for both of them to pull away and pull them off - shoes kicked God knows where and socks pulled off with toes on them first as feet came free to press into the cold, soft grass - and they were naked as the day these two stolen bodies were born.

Crowley stood back - breath fogging in the air - hands hovering but not touching. He just… stared. Stared at the curves and the lines, the moonlight playing over flesh… the way it caught the whites of Castiel’s perfect eyes, played on the faint traces of where his own mouth had been, slickening his lover’s lips… his angel was beautiful. His angel was more than beautiful. His angel was all _his_ , and the glow of Heaven haloed him more perfectly here, in the quiet dark night - in their garden - than he remembered. It was like he burned from within, with everything good and right.

“Wings?” he asked, past a mouth suddenly dry. “Please?”

Cas lifted his arm to brush the stray, unruly hair out of his face. The night air was cool against his skin, making him more aware of the sudden lack of contact, of the burn of Crowley's eyes on him. He supposed he could put on a bit of show for his chosen mate, and he smiled in anticipation as he slowly began to pull his wings into the physical plane.

"Of course, my love," Cas said, manifesting the darkness of his entire wing span. "Whatever you want." He allowed electricity to gather between his feathers, making them spark up the night with veins of lightning. He raised them upwards, the tips of his feathers touching the top of the tree which had just taken such abuse from them. He watched eagerly for any sign of satisfaction from Crowley, letting the sparks of lightning run down from the sky towards his shoulder blades. "Festive enough for you?"

It was something Crowley envied. No - envy was not the right word. That implied too much negative emotion. Crowley felt nothing but admiration and pleasure seeing the corporeal evidence of his lover’s true nature, although it hurt a little to know he’d never be his match like this. They were different, but Cas had never once said he wished Crowley to be anything else, and he supposed that was all that mattered. His smile was wistful and full of pride as he watched the sparks dance over the dark fan of Castiel’s wingspan, and his own amber eyes went the colour of sangria for a blink. Everything inside him just… hurt when they weren’t touching. He let that go on for as long as he could bear, then stepped in close.

With just his fingertips he tickled through the splayed feathers, the static shock a pleasant tingle. He worked his way up to the strong spread of his wings from his shoulder and grabbed tight hold, thumbs below still dragging through the softer, downy trails at the base of each feather. He stood close - thigh to thigh, cock sliding against its partner - and kissed carefully in the hollow of his throat. “Angel…” It was barely more than an atavistic growl, “...I want to fuck you wide open. Here. Now. I want to burn my name forever inside you.” He tugged upwards with those hands on Cas’ wings, even as he backed him into the trunk again. It might hurt, but he knew his angel could take it or climb up his body for support if it hurt too much. He lifted Cas like he was weightless, but he could feel every pound. “...I want to slide into you and _own_ you, like you own my heart…” He kissed lower, where he could feel the pounding of the vessel’s heart. It was like a beautiful, ancient drumbeat. Their bodies knew what to do. They’d always known what to do. “...will you let me love you?”

Cas closed his eyes to let the feeling of his beloved's hands on the corporeal manifestations of his true form course through his body. The pulsing of desire thrummed through him and made his head spin.

"Yes," he whispered, leaning into the touch. "Yes, yes." He wrapped his thighs around Crowley's torso, his arms around his neck. "Yes... take me. No more waiting. No more words." Ah, but how he loved the sound of Crowley's words, almost as much as he loved the burn of Hellfire under his skin when Crowley let him feel it. He wanted to burn. Eternally, together, one constant flame. "I am yours now," he added, his voice barely loud enough to be heard, raw from lust and drunk on the power of love and being loved.

Crowley’s hands slid over his wings - knowing the angel was holding on now - over his shoulders, down across his chest and lower to his thighs. They were already splayed open and around his waist. Already braced in position. His right hand found his own cock - the poor thing eager and begging itself - and he stroked it slick with just a thought. Held it still, as the hand on Cas’ waist pulled the angel back down. He hadn’t prepared him, it was true. But his vessel ran on Grace, and Crowley knew that letting gravity or his angel’s own impatience do the work would be enough. Both hands on his hips, feeling them flex as the angel pressed down, opening torturously slowly to let him in. His own mouth ajar in concentration.

“When we’re done,” he whispered back, tugging him lower, rising up to meet him, “...I’m going to need you to do the same to me.” It was still difficult to voice that. To ask. But it just filled him with gleeful terror, now, not terror.

Cas moaned and quickly dropped one of his hands to wrap it around the base of his cock to keep himself from spending right then and there, his lips frozen in a lax oval as he shut his eyes tighter. He wasn't sure what was pushing him over the edge faster, being slowly impaled on Crowley's cock, or hearing the dulcet plea from his beloved's lips for more pleasures still to come. It sent shivers up his spine to the base of his wings each time Crowley wanted Cas inside him.

"Yes, anything you want," Cas squeezed out as he wrapped his thighs tighter around his demon, feeling buttressed and full. "Ah... please... harder." His wings beat against the branches of the tree, shaking leaves free of it, causing the trunk to creak and sway from their weight. 

Thanking Hell for demon-magic - not for the first, and certainly not for the last time - Crowley used the hands cupping Cas’ ass to lift him higher, almost off, and then sharply tug him down even as he surged up to meet him. He drove harder inside, pushing as far in as he could. Cas’ body obliged so nicely, but it was still tight. He could tell his spouse was enjoying this a lot; he could feel it in the way he clenched around him. Oh, could he tell. He bit his lip to keep the choked sound mostly inside.

Still not enough. He took a mouthful of feathers and choked down his pleasure that way, instead, slamming into Cas harder. Harder. The tree complained furiously, the roots trying to hold out against the sudden infernal onslaught. Crowley felt the tendrils trying to come out from the soil and shifted his feet to pin two down. It wouldn’t stop them shattering the trunk, but it would stop the whole thing being uprooted at least. 

_We’re going to break the whole damn villa at this rate,_ he thought, laughingly, with that slight hint of hysteria in his mental voice. He was losing it, losing control, losing the ability to prevent the poor tree from snapping, losing the ability to keep the fire that constantly raged inside of him from reaching out and flaring between them. With difficulty he freed one hand and coiled it around Cas’. He didn’t want him to hold off, and he made that clear with nothing but his thumb.

Cas' eyes flew open, accompanying another animalistic moan, and focused on the burning amber coals of Crowley's eyes. _It's too beautiful to destroy so quickly_ , his thought flashed back, and - as if taking pity on his spouse - Castiel pushed away from the tree with his palpitating wings, bringing them both crashing to the grass-covered ground.

He ended up on top, still straddling Crowley's hips, still impaled on the perfectly fitting ramrod of the King of Hell's cock, hands bracing against the demon's chest, riding him steadily, fingers attuned to the beating of the heart beneath them.

"Ugh, you're gorgeous," Cas moaned, slamming his hips down, riding Crowley to both of their climaxes. "Come on, lover. Show me... make me come." He contracted his muscles, applying pressure to each part of skin he was touching, both inside and outside, feeling the approach of Crowley's orgasm as surely as his own.

The demon laughed as the angel used his wings to send them toppling. It was almost not fair, but then it did mean when the dust settled he was on his back with a lapful of writhing, horny husband. A husband who was apparently intent on fucking his own brains out on Crowley’s dick. Crowley objected to none of the above.

He didn’t answer at first, the smile on his face thoroughly wicked as well as loving. A hand gliding down over his spine to make him arch again, coming to rest low on his ass. He couldn’t feel where his cock was, but he knew it was there, inches away from his fingers. He sent that bright blaze he’d promised at the altar, searing through him, even as his other hand gripped Cas’ shaft. Knowing, loving strokes, writing his name in a language older than tongues or tablets, pulling and twisting and _giving_ instead of teasing. His eyes looked almost pained with how happy he felt. How… right. Loved. He wanted Cas to feel it, too. Wanted Cas to understand. For once, he thought he might not even have to push inside to let him feel it. Cas already knew.

“ _Come, angel_ ,” he said, voice as soft as a faint summer breeze. “I love you.” With effort, he didn’t let his eyes close, but they had to fight not to shut, going thin with the sudden surge of heat in his crotch. Wicked, wicked angel. Wicked, wicked man. Wicked - wonderful - treacherous - body. His mouth open with a silent, wordless, breathless cry as he poured too-long of waiting into his perfect, nasty, wonderful lover. It was right. It was bliss. It wasn’t even threatening to be pinned below that vessel, those terrifying wings. It was home.

Castiel was on fire, his wings flashing blood red against the sky as he felt his beloved's climax tear through him and wring his own out of him, drinking in Crowley's passion and affection with his eyes and his skin. There was a fragment of his own Grace inside his husband, he remembered, he had left it there himself, and he made it burn bright with recognition. They were one now.

 

Crowley felt the answering echo inside himself, not quite sure what to make of it. It was strange and not-quite-right. No, that didn't explain it. It _was_ right. It felt very much new and different. It felt as far from Hell as something _could_ feel. Cas had evidently _done_ something, because Crowley could almost swear he could feel the angel in his heart, and knowing Castiel appreciated romantic gestures - perhaps almost as much as he did - it had to be deliberate?

Whatever the reason, Crowley held onto the feeling, enjoying the way everything seemed... better. Happier. Clearer. The way it felt like Cas was a part of him (silly, silly demon, but it _felt_ that way...) The reasons why could come later. For now he just revelled in the sense of peace and completion. He knew it wasn't just physical afterglow.

Castiel’s vessel was soaked with preternatural sweat. The heady scent of their desire hung heavily in the air as Cas finally allowed his body to relax and drape, wrecked and spent, over his newlywed groom's form. Spread out across the garden, his wings lay splayed out, giving an occasional post-coital twitch.

"I love you too," he whispered into Crowley's neck, purring with contentment. "And I think the garden is still intact. For now."

"We have eternity to wreck and rebuild," Crowley replied, stroking gently over the softening flesh in his hand. He rubbed the sticky, messy fluid back over him because he wasn't ready to stop touching just yet. His other hand wandered idly over skin, into feathers, back over skin... anywhere it wanted to. It was all his. He'd written his claim in more than just words and ceremony. "I haven't even shown you a third of it. Not to mention the inside of the villa."

He was in no hurry to move, though, because this felt good and they did - after all - have forever. There was no momento mori any more. Not even a need to sleep. "I still can't believe we didn't even make it to the _threshold_." For some reason this was incredibly funny and terribly affronting in one.

“Mmmm,” Castiel purred and burrowed further into Crowley’s neck. His husband was warm and kind of soft and really comfortable. “I’m sorry, darling. I can’t wait to see the rest.” He wound his arms through Crowley’s armpits and pressed closer, feeling the pleasant heat radiating through his body. He could still sense the pulsating of his own Grace right beneath Crowley’s heart, and it made his tired wings bristle with joy.

“Well,” Crowley said, nipping just below his ear. “If you like I can show you. If you’re ready… considering you did just jump my bones in the _garden_ of all places…” It was so very… bohemian.

"I apologize," Cas muttered, smiling contently and sounding not a bit sorry. He knew he should probably move, or at least roll off Crowley, but he felt so pleasantly drained and was rather enjoying the feel of skin against his own. At the very least, he knew he should put his wings away, lest they destroy their new home. "Moving is such a hardship," Cas whined, weakly. "You're just going to have to resort to the bridal carry. You know, do it _properly_ , like you wanted." He chucked softly into Crowley's neck.

"You are a very, very bad angel," Crowley chided. "But I love that about you, so don't change." He did nip again in retaliation, though. 

When it became clear Cas wasn't even going to get up, Crowley made a tutting noise. Were all angels so inherently lazy, or did he just happen to fall for the heavenly equivalent of Garfield? "Fine. I will carry you. But only because you didn't get your brothers and sisters to all give me the 'talk', and you mostly behaved during the reception..."

A blink and they were upright, and Cas was in his arms. And they were both still stark bollock naked, but what the hell. "I'm going to give you the _quick_ tour of the garden, because you can explore it better in the daytime," he promised, carrying the angel like he weighed nothing, wandering over the grass and through the trees. It was a reasonably spacious garden, with plenty of secluded sections and mostly indigenous plants. The air was rich with the smell of acacia and vervaine, or _verbena_ as it was called here. Crowley did not know much about gardens, so this had been the bit he'd sort of said 'sure' to any pretty design someone brought before him. It would all die down and be replanted several times anyway, it wasn't as if it was bricks and mortar, like the villa. The only real permanence was the small but picturesque waterfall. Crowley already knew what it all looked like so he just wandered seemingly aimlessly (but not really), whilst his lips brushed Cas' throat as they walked.

Cas had his arms wrapped around Crowley's neck, marveling at the advantages of marrying another supernatural being. Immortality aside, the carrying thing was convenient, as was the lack of the refractory period (his own exhaustion notwithstanding but for more spiritual reasons than corporeal).

"You're the best, baby," he muttered and leaned into the soft kisses.

"I am," Crowley agreed, humbly. "You can change as much of this as you like. It's really not my forte. I put more effort into our basement because _that's_ something I know... I thought perhaps you'd like a cage... for old time's sake..." Only they could find a cage deeply romantic, he thought. But that was why they were now married for eternity. "Now... inside..."

He started walking towards the building proper. It was newly built and that showed in the larger than normal windows, but the material and overall style had been picked to blend in with the region. He'd had warding etched on the edge of every lump of stone, the only reason they and invited others could come in was thanks to the 'guestlist' he'd included. Their own names were writ large all over the building so no one could evict them, because a demon's home was his fortress and nothing would stand between him and his home comforts. Everything about the building screamed 'light', down to the little glass-domed conservatory with the pool in, reflecting the moon's face back up at it. 

Just before they got to the threshold - for the traditional part they'd almost skipped over - Crowley looked down at Cas. "You did something," he said, without accusation. "I could tell. You did something, but I don't quite know what. I feel... different, Cas."

Cas brushed his fingers over the ridges of Crowley's ears. They were adorable. It took him a few moments to realize what his spouse had actually asked, distracted as he was with admiring the generous lips while they spoke. He was a millennial-old being acting like a teenager in love.

"Do you remember the night in Bangkok, when you proposed to me?" he began cautiously.

"Do I... Castiel, do you honestly think I could forget Bangkok? If you do, I'm going to take you to get your head examined. I'll never forget that night..." Which just made the little rain of sporadic kisses turn into a brief (and hazy) flurry.

"When I let my Grace flow through you," Cas continued, "there was a part of me that was afraid to let go, that wanted to stay intercolated with you always. So, I left a little part behind. And now it resonates with the rest of my Grace when we're... you know.... in congress." He didn't know why he suddenly felt shy about it, as if they hadn't just come close to destroying the little Eden Crowley had created for them while being very unabashedly in aforementioned congress. "Do you want me to take it out?" he asked, eyes going wide and endearingly feline.

Crowley halted the kissing spree to look down at Cas, stopping walking in surprise. That... explained a lot. And it was... touching. Trust his angel to find new ways to make him ache with adoration. "Didn't it hurt, to split yourself? Not that I'm complaining you turned me into a... sex-Horcrux? Hell, Cas, I..." Not. Going. To. Cry. He hefted him, took a deep breath. "No. I want you there. Then you're with me even when you're not. You're safe in me... and if it wouldn't tarnish you with smoke... I'd have done the same... but I don't think you need a little red in your eyes. Do you? The blue there is already perfect." He did feel that perhaps building a villa just outside of Rome was rather tame as wedding presents went in comparison. Even as they approached the door where the little engraved stone announced:

_Villa di Paradiso_.

It had seemed apt.

“I like it,” Cas uttered, being mysteriously unspecific so that Crowley could not be sure whether he was talking about the Grace-sharing, having a little piece of demon in him, or the name of their new home. “But you really do nothing half way, darling,” Cas grinned and wiggled his legs in the air with childlike anticipation, arms still wrapped around his beloved’s neck. “Shall we go in? Test out the cage?” He leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder and blinked up at him languidly.

"The cage... then the bed... then the pool... then the kitchen table... then the cage again... After all, I have to make good use of the angel inside of me, don't I?" Nose to nose, eyes closed, almost kissing. "...in more ways than one."

He pressed his lips to Cas' as he carried him finally over the threshold into their own little paradise. It wasn't Heaven, it wasn't Hell, but it was just enough of both to be perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Our banner was made by Davechicken.
> 
> Thank you for visiting the Paradiso 'Verse, where the only thing longer than our sex scenes are SPN hiatuses. ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Demon of Christmas Present(s)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086991) by [Davechicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken)




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